


Scare Me Like That Again and I'll Kill You

by sans_souci2



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the season finale, Steve's attacked in prison. It's bad, Danny just about loses it.(lots of Steve whump)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scare Me Like That Again and I'll Kill You

Everyone’s had at least one of them-a horrible, terrible, burned into your brain moment that you’ll never forget as long as you live.

For Danny, standing there, holding on to that fence and watching his brother throw his life away was one of them.

Exactly four months later, at eleven fifteen in the morning another one blindsides him.

He remembers the exact time because when his cell phone rang he looked up and saw the clock on the wall outside his office. It’s when he also noticed that the bullpen was empty–that Kono and Jenna were still not back from another command appearance at IAD.

Months and even years later he’ll still remember every detail of that phone call, not just what was said, but what he was wearing, what was on his desk, even, how much coffee was left in the styrofoam cup he should have thrown out but hadn’t gotten around to.

“Williams.”

“Is this Detective Daniel Williams?”

“Who wants to know?”

“This is Kevin Hennessey. I’m the warden at Ha–”

“I know who you are–what’s this about?”

“You’re listed as Steven McGarrett’s emergency contact-”

This must be what a heart attack feels like.

“What happened?"

“I'm calling to let you know that Mr McGarrett is in route to Queens Trauma Center-”

“Answer me God damn it! What happened?”

“I'm afraid there was an... altercation. Mr.McGarret was stabbed a short while ago-“

"No !" he screams. He wants to tell Hennesy that it’s impossible, that he'd been given all kinds of guarantees, but all he can choke out is, “how bad is it?”

“They called for a chopper.”

Funny how just five words can absolutely level you.

“Was he con … scious?”

And, how one simple one can suddenly refuse to roll off your tongue.

“Initially, yes. But, by the time they loaded him on the chopper he was unresponsive.”

Imagining Steve lying there bleeding in that hell hole he should never have been sent to in the first place, unleashes a rage in him like he’s never felt before, “How the fuck could you let something like this happen!” He stands up so fast his chair tips over. “You've had my partner in solitary 23 hours a day just to make sure it doesn’t fucking happen!”

“Detective, I’m as shocked as you are. The inmate who attacked Mr. McGarrett should never have been out of his cell when any of the protective population was. We had a new guard on duty today though and apparently he got mixed up.”

“Where…,” he has to swallow hard before he can go on, “did he cut him?”

“Just under the rib cage…, on the right side.”

He feels like he’s about to vomit, “When did the chopper take off?”

“Less than five minutes ago–”

He cuts the man off by snapping his phone shut, then grabs his keys. His half filled coffee cup tips over when he grabs his holster and gun. He's already halfway to the door before the creamy brown liquid stops spreading across his desk.

_______~_______

When the double glass doors to Five-0’s offices swing open, the few people milling around in the main hallway immediately step back.

Everyone who works in the building knows better than to get in the way.

A clerk from the DA’s office, on her way back from the ladies' room backs up against the wall as the blonde detective races by. She’s seen him and his drop dead gorgeous partner fly out of those double doors more than a few times. To be honest, she always takes her time in this hallway hoping for another sighting. It's just her opinion but she swears both of them could make it big time in Hollywood.

Something’s wrong today, though– really wrong. The blonde’s by himself and for the first time, instead of his usual bad-ass look, there’s stomach-churnning fear all over his face. After he runs past her it takes a minute before she can force herself to head back to her desk. Even once she’s there, she can’t stop seeing the detective’s face. She's not big on religion but she prays to any God out there that his partner's okay.

______~_______

There’s pain and then there’s pain.

The fury that the jagged blade slicing into Steve’s side sets off definitely falls in the second category.

It's a subtle, slow to take hold kind of pain though; at first he doesn't even know he's been stabbed. One minute he's being escorted to the exercise yard and the next, a wild-eyed inmate he's never seen before is lunging at him with outstretched arms. He doesn't see the metal blade concealed between the man's hands and doesn't interpret the initial pain he feels as what it is. It honestly just feels like a hard blow to his side. As he watches his attacker being subdued, he brings his cuffed hands up to press against the throbbing, just starting to burn area right below his rib cage. That's when he feels a warm wetness and looks down.

Seeing so much blood apparently completes some kind of circuit because suddenly pain comes crashing down on him like a huge curling breaker. It honestly feels like a white hot poker is stirring his insides. He wants to scream but can’t come up with enough breath to do it. His vision narrows and the voices around him start to sound distant. It’s as if his senses dial themselves back so that he can focus exclusively on the agony in his side.

A voice tells him to lie down and hands push roughly on his shoulders. He crumples in a heap, legs sprawled out but hands still pressed against his side.

“Take it easy, you’re going to be fine.” The same voice sounds convincing until whoever it belongs to turns and screams, “Get someone from medical down here now-he's bleeding like a son of a bitch!”

The 'He' is him?

All this blood is his ?

Mercifully,everything suddenly goes black.

 

_______~_______

 

Danny’s been in enough ICUs to know what to expect. He’s ready for the tubing and wires and beeps and smells. He knows what people look like after they lose a lot of blood. He's seen the pallor and the pain filled eyes. The fact is there’s really nothing that he hasn’t seen so when the social worker taking him to see Steve slows down and starts trying to prepare him, he grabs her by elbow and tells her not to waste her breath. “I’m a detective, Miss, I know what to expect, please, I just want to see my partner.”

She picks up the pace, but then stops a few feet from one of the sliding glass doors that front each ICU room. Using her body, to block his, she forces him to listen, “I’m sure you have seen plenty of ICUs, detective, but trust me, it’s different when it’s personal.” She touches his arm and looks him straight in the eye, “Please, just make sure you take slow deep breaths and if you feel lightheaded, sit down right away.”

“I will, now if you don’t mind–” He pushes past her and is halfway to the bed before he freezes in his tracks.

“Breathe.” He hears her say. He feels her hand firmly pressing on his back. A nurse adjusting Steve’s oxygen mask looks up and nods for him to come closer.

He gets her message, it's just he can’t do it.

For a second his lips are the only part of him that moves at all, “Oh God … oh… Steve.” He digs his fingernails into his palms as he says it, hoping the pain will quiet the roaring in his head.

“You can come up to the bed,” the nurse says.

You think I don’t want to?

The thing is, his legs would have to move to get over there and right now they refuse.

“Here, I’ll help you.” One of the social worker’s hands is on the small of his back pushing him gently while the other one is holding onto his arm and guiding him–the way he used to help his Grand-dad to the dinner table.

“Go ahead, talk to him, let him know you’re here,” she tells him. Then, there’s a scrapping sound and something hits up against the back of his knees. “Sit down detective.”

He does it. Even if she hadn’t pushed on his shoulders, he would have–his legs feel like rubber. When he finally manages to speak, his voice sounds like someone else's, “Has he been… awake, at all?”

“A little,” the nurse answers, “but he’s on some pretty heavy pain meds so it’s only for very brief intervals.”

Almost on cue, Steve grimaces. His eyes are still closed but they’re on the move, twitching under his translucent eyelids like there's something he doesn't want to see.

“He ... , he looks like he’s in pain?”

The nurse is already tapping numbers into the keypad of an IV pump, “I know. I’m giving him something for it.”

It takes a few minutes for the narcotic to do its job; Danny barely moves while he waits. When Steve’s breathing finally slows and the deep lines in his face soften, he drops his forehead against the bed railing, feeling weak with releif.

Oh yeah, I’m a pro at ICU’s.

Guess again.

His hand shakes when he gets the nerve to reach over the railing. An oxygen mask strapped to Steve’s face leaves only his forehead to touch. When he runs his fingers over it, he frowns at the nurse, “He feels … hot?”

“He does has a slight fever," she answers, "It’s not unusual after surgery.”

“But it could be… an infection?”

“Possibly but he’s on two broad spectrum antibiotics- he should be well protected.”

Protected?

He wants to tell her that promises about protecting his partner are less than worthless, but keeps his mouth shut and looks where she’s nodding. The cluster of IV bags hanging from a pole next to Steve's bed looks like some kind of bizarre bouquet of balloons. There must be at least six of them–one's encased in a strange, sausage-like inflated sleeve.

So two of them are antibiotics?

He guesses it must be the two bags with small glass vials attached. Two others he recognizes right away and can’t bear to look at. Blood looks so much darker when it’s contained in plastic pouches and not smeared or seeping through clothing. One of the units of blood is dripping into tubing that connects an IV device under Steve's collarbone.

He honestly can't stand even a half second glimpse.

It’s just a blood transfusion.

A lot of patients get them after surgery.

He knows that.

It's just that he never wants to see so much blood anywhere near Steve ever again. It’s not just in the tubing and in the bags hanging over his head. It’s seeping through the bandage on his side, and filling the thicker tubing coming out from under the bandage and, has almost filled the accordion like receptacle laying on the bed next to him.

How are they ever get ahead? Just as much blood seems to be coming out as going in.

“So tell me,” he whispers, not taking his eyes off Steve's face and not missing the fact that his tan complexion is now such a scary shade of grey, “What's it going to take for him to …beat this?”

The nurse answers him honestly. As much as he hates hearing about postoperative bleeding and fluid shifts and infections and all the other possible complications he may face, he appreciates knowing who the potential enemies are. He takes a few seconds to process it all then asks, “He has a sister in LA. Should I tell her to come?”

“Yes.” She squeezes his arm when she says it and the look she gives him sends a chill up his spine.

“Now?”

“Definitely.”

Suddenly his eyes fill. Definitely?

No. Don’t say that. Don’t look at me that way either, please. Steve's face goes in and out of focus. The reservoir attached to his oxygen mask rises and falls against his bare chest like a mini plastic pillow.

“Why doesn’t he …have a gown?” The question comes out of nowhere. As soon as he asks though, he realizes how much the fact that Steve's only covered by a folded sheet bothers him.

“We need to be able to see his dressing at all times as well as his ribcage so we can assess how hard he’s having to work at breathing. And, as you noticed, he’s feverish; a gown would only trap in the heat.”

And cover the chest and dark curly hair that I,and, not perfect strangers should be seeing?

Thinking it in his head worsens the ache in his throat. It’s a stupid little thing, but, he just desperately wants his partner covered up.

“Here,” the nurse hands him a cool wash cloth, “ This really seems to help.”

Okay.

I can do this.

He can barely see what he’s doing as he wipes the cloth over Steve’s forehead but he can hear the beeps from the monitors slow down and it's like winning the lottery when his vision clears and Steve almost looks like he’s sleeping peacefully.

“There you go , babe. Just relax,” he murmurs, then, says it again and again as he smooths the damp cloth over his forehead, “There you go.”  
_____~_____

It turns out the ICU is a place to learn a lot of things you never knew.

And wished you never did.

Like for example, even a sleeping person feels pain. He never would have believed it until he watches it play out on Steve’s face and hears it work its way up out of his throat in the form of half formed grunts and moans. The nurse is on top of it each time and punches the key pad on one of his IV pumps and pretty soon, but, not soon enough, Steve’s back to being still and letting his mouth drop open beneath the oxygen mask. It should feel like a victory but it never does.

Lesson Number Two– the way Steve is always scaring him–you know, by risking both their lives cavalierly and regularly?

Count all those little adventures as nada.

As mere blips on no the radar screen.

Why you ask?

Because what he does to Danny about ten hours after he gets out of the OR is the real deal.

As in the Lt. Commander’s big gun.

Make that BIG, BIG gun, as in so big Danny is more terrified than he has ever been in his entire life.

It starts out with Steve clawing his way to consciousness, like he’s been doing every hour or so all along. But this time there’s a desperate grimace on his face wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

“Shh.. take it easy, babe, everything’s okay.” The frightened way Steve’s stares back at him and the look on the nurse’s face tells Danny that he might have the okay part wrong. Then Steve lets out a pained groan and twists to one side, pressing both his hands against his bandage and pulling his legs up. He’s shaking his head from side to side, too, as if he’s trying to refuse an uninvited visitor

"What is it Steve, what's wrong?"

"Hurts... bad."

“Why aren't you giving him something?” It's all he can do not to grab the nurse by the shoulders and shake her.

“We need to hold off on any more narcotics for a second,”

She’s distracted by something on the monitors and doesn't even look at him.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“It’ s probably nothing, but his blood pressure ‘s dropping a little, we don’t want to give him more narcotics until we check it out.“

She’s punching numbers into a cell phone as she’s talking. “I’m paging his doctor, he’ll be here in a minute.”

“Hang in there, babe, the doc’s on his way.” He’s holding Steve’s hand, trying to calm him down but getting nowhere. Suddenly the monitors start shrieking and the nurse does something that makes his IV drip much faster. Then she lowers the head of the bed. When she rolls an ominous looking red metal cart up next to the bed, Danny can barely ask, “What’s that … for ?”

“Just in case,” is all she says.

The doors finally whir open and Steve’s doctor and another man in scrubs race in. The doctor scans the monitors while the nurse rattles off words like rigid and tachy and hypotensive and even though Danny doesn't follow everything he gets the terrifying gist of it.

The other youngish man who’s also a doctor, if you believe his ID tag, pulls the sheet off Steve and peels his bandage back. A hideously long string of sutures run from below his ribs to his hipbone. They look like knotted blue fishing line digging into his flesh. His skin is orange tinged with antiseptic except where dark red blood oozes from the incision. It's all Danny can do not to gag.

The doctor asks Steve if the pain is different than before but he just moans. Danny can’t stand another second of it ,“Yes it’s different for God’s sake! It’s much worse!” The doctor shoots a frown at him and grabs a pair of exam gloves. When he begins to feel along the incision Steve practically flies up off the bed.

“He’s definitely rigid –”

The nurse interrupts, “And as I said, he was soft with no guarding less than fifteen minutes ago.”

“And what was his pressure then?”

“One-twenty over seventy.”

The doctor looks up at the monitor and frowns, “Call the OR, tell then we’re coming down with an acute post op bleed,” Then to the other doctor, “Call the blood bank have six units sent to the OR; make sure we have a rapid infuser in the room. Then back to the nurse,”Let's get a stat CBC, coag panel, and chem-10. Oh, and you better put in a second line-make it an 18 guage ."

The nurse nods, flips open her phone and calls for help. In minutes a stream of people arrive. Mercifully, before he leaves, the doctor makes the call that Steve can have some morphine. Danny backs away from the bed but only because the nurse is gently pulling on his arm. He stays out of the way, up against the wall watching them work on Steve for as long as he can bear but when they start to roll his bed toward the door he slips up next to it and grabs his hand, “You fight this Steve, you hear me babe?”

“Sir, I’m sorry we have to go,”

“Then so the hell do I!”

They're good people and don't fight him. He stays where he is, holding onto Steve’s hand and walking along side the bed as it’s rolled down the hall. He's honestly barely aware of the people surrounding him. “You’re going to make it through this in one piece- you hear me ? There’s no way I’m losing you, so don’t even think about doing anything stupid.”

Between the blood loss and the morphine, Steve's barely conscious. It doesn't matter. Danny keeps warning and threatening him all the way to the OR level. When they reach a pair of double doors Steve’s nurse tell him he can’t go any further. He knows it’s true but she has to peel his fingers off Steve’s hand and hold on to him as they wheel the bed away. Watching those doors close and knowing his partner is in there fighting for his life is more than he can bear and a ragged sob works it’s way up his throat. He hears the nurse saying all the right things and feels her arms come around him but the deep shuddering sobs refuse to stop.

 

________~_______

“You about done scaring the crap out of me?”

Steve’s bleary-eyed confusion would have been comical if Danny wasn’t still so damn worried the answer was No.

“Wha … day-” Steve croaks two words then stops to run his tongue over his lips.

“Hold on– you look pretty dry there. Here try some of this.”

Steve reaches for the cup of ice chips but Danny holds on to it, “How about you let me do the honors so we don’t wind up with you taking an ice bath, here, open wide.”

At first it looks like Steve’s seriously considering insisting but then reason or exhaustion gets the better of him and he lets Danny spoon a few ice chips in his mouth. He closes his eyes as he sucks on them, and then opens his mouth– not looking at Danny but making it pretty clear he’d appreciate some more.

“Pretty good , huh? Only time in the world a few lousy ice chips taste like heaven is when you’re in the hospital. Here’s one more spoonful then we got to call it quits. Hey don’t give me that face, you keep these down and I’ll give you more in a few minutes.”

“Lips … are really … dry.” Steve croaks, sounding and looking downright pitiful.

“I can see that babe and I got just the thing for you.” This time the confused, then insulted look on Steve’s face really does make Danny chuckle, “Don’t worry, I tried it myself, it’s good stuff.” Concentrating the same way he does with Gracie, he makes several swipes at Steve’s chapped lips with a tube of lip balm. “There better?”

It’s reluctant but Steve gives him a hoarse, “Yeah,” as he presses his lips together to work the balm in. His frown comes right back, though, when Danny proceeds to liberally coat his own lips.

“What? You’re the only who can have nice moist lips? Forget that. I do Florence Nightengale duty; I get the same perks you do.”

Still frowning, but ready to move on, Steve asks, “What day … is it?”

“It’s Sunday, you’ve been here since Friday.” Danny’s demeanor does a rapid fire 360’ as he remembers what the last two days have been like. “And, you, babe, have you’ve been doing a hell of a job of scaring the crap out of me.” He leans in over the bed rail to trail his hand down Steve’s stubbled cheek, “I’d very much appreciate it if you promise to stop the dramatic stuff, okay?”

“What … happened?”

“So you know you got stabbed, right ?”

He nods that he does but looks confused, “I don’t know …why, or who though.”

“I don’t either, we’ll figure it out later. What I do know is you never belonged in that hell hole and you’re not going back there, ever.”

They both know it’s going to be a hard promise to keep but for right now, it’s enough to let Danny move on, “So as soon as you got here you went to the OR for a little seven hour operation–turns out the bastard who knifed you nicked your liver.” The way Steve winces confirms that he knows a little bit about liver injuries. “Yep, you’re right, not the best organ to mess with."

Clearly, Danny does too. "Anyway they finally got you sorted out and up here and then a few hours later you started bleeding again. Danny’s trying to sound matter of fact and keep the fear off his face, “So it was back to the OR for more repair work and then you finally agreed to play nice and here we are.”

“You been here … the whole time?”

“Just about,” Danny snorts softly, impressed by how deftly his partner sidesteps the scary parts. “Mary’s here too, Chin ,Kono, Jenna, the whole gang. Kono’s taking Mary to the house right now though to take a shower and get changed. They’ll be back in about an hour. The others want to see you but I get first dibs so they’re cooling their heels out there in a waiting room.”

The news makes Steve swallow hard and look worried. Danny can almost read his mind as he makes a a hesitant scan of the room then glances down at himself.

If there’s one thing his SEAL pal hates it’s being down and being fussed and fawned over him. Without a word Steve slips into what Danny calls his pain assessment mode. It’s the same thing each time he resurfaces. First he closes his eyes, then he plants both hands palm down on either side of himself and pushes up and back against the mattress. Nine times out of ten, like he does know, he grimaces as his body responds with a resounding and clearly painful, Don’t even think about moving around yet.

“Don’t rush things, babe, you just had major surgery times two.”

“But that was … ,” he frowns, “how many days ago?”

“Two. Barely two.”

Steve’s look says that’s more than enough time wasted laying around doing nothing. Danny half wants to hug him and half wants to clobber some sense into him. “I know, I know. You always bounce back faster than that damn bunny on TV, but it was bad this time, Steve, really bad.” His voice cracks, “I nearly lost you, you knucklehead-” He reaches in and brushes his hand across Steve’s forehead, “So how about you just take it slow and don’t rock the boat for a change?”

There’s all kinds of discomfort on Steve’s face- at first it’s mainly the mental variety. Seeing and sensing so much emotion coming from Danny seems to be making him want this conversation over with. Now. Just as deftly as a minute ago, he comes up with a respectable re-direct. First he looks down at himself, then, he looks up at Danny with a quizzical frown, “So I … finally got a gown?”

“Yes indeed you now have a gown. Now, see there? That’s progress,” Danny beams, “And, it’s very attractive on you, I might add- blue is definitely your color.”

Steve’s hand moves and for a second Danny almost thinks he’s about to flip him off.

Nothing would have made him more ecstatic.

But then, instead, he grabs his side and hugs himself as a weak coughing jag ambushes him. It’s a sorry excuse for a cough- his shoulders barely move, but it doesn’t take much to churn up some pretty impressive pain given the deep incision that runs from his chest to his hipbone.

“Sh…it” he hisses, biting his lip and fighting desperately not to cough again.

“It’s okay, babe, here, just press this-“ Danny can’t get the controller to his morphine pump to him fast enough. Steve’s still grimacing but he doesn’t press the button, “Come on, Steve? Don’t be a hero.”

“I don’t want … to be knocked out … again”

“Don’t be stupid. You know what the doctor told you- stay on top of the pain- if it gets away from you it drives up your blood pressure and then you might start bleeding again, and trust me, neither you or I can bear to have that happen-”

Steve’s eyes are closed and he’s concentrating on breathing through the pain and Danny’s just about to grab the controller from him and hit the damn button himself when there’s a soft whir and the sliding glass door behind him opens.

“You doing okay, Steve?”

His nurse. Good. Maybe she can knock some sense into him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You are? Your heart rate’s up?”

Busted.

“Really? I feel … fine.”

Okay, all that special ops training of his must have included a fair amount of time on theatrical skills because damn if the guy doesn’t look up at her with a relaxed, slightly confused expression.

“Your pain’s okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Where would you rate it on a scale of one to ten?”

“Four … maybe five.” His voice is a little pinched, like he’s trying not to move his ribcage, which he is, but other than that he looks okay. Danny wants to strangle him.

“Four or five? Really? I would have guessed more like seven or eight based on your pulse and the way you’re sweating.”

Yes ! The good commander has met his match!

The nurse sounds blasé as she fiddles with his IV tubing, “ But hey, I’ll take your word for it.” Then she picks something up off his tray table, “Here you go, how about you give this a little work out- your lungs sounded pretty junky this morning.”

Danny sees the tremor that runs down Steve’s jaw and knows it’s his non-verbal equivalent for Oh Shit. The poor guy makes a valiant effort to elude the trap, “Can’t it … wait a little …while?”

“It’s not a good idea. If you don’t get your lungs re-expanded, you’re going to be looking at pneumonia- trust me, I’ve seen it too many times.” Then, like it’s just suddenly occurs to her, “You think maybe you should take a hit of pain med? Those deep breaths can be pretty painful.”

Steve’s shoulders sag as he nods and depresses the button. A soft whir and flashing green light assures Danny that he’s going to be comfortable in a few minutes. Totally, outmaneuvered, Steve sinks back against his pillows and closes his eyes.

Danny wonders if anyone look any more adorable.

“It’s okay, Steve, stop trying to fight it. Just go with the flow.” Danny leans in and gives him a kiss, not caring a bit that the nurse is there. She seems pretty chill.

“How about I give you a little while to rest, then you can tackle this?” The nurse sets the incentive spirometer down, answering her own question before Steve grits out an exhausted sounding _Okay_. He still looks like he’s hurting but his breathing’s slowing down and some of the deep lines across his forehead have relaxed.

“That’s the ticket,“Danny murmurs as he pulls the covers up over him. “Repeat after me, pain medicine is my friend.”

The nurse is standing in the doorway smiling at him when he straightens up. Without thinking he winks at her.

She winks back.

She is pretty chill.

Maybe they can pull Steve’s stubborn ass through this after all.


End file.
